


Hook, Line, and Spencer

by sebviathan



Series: in between the lines (there's a lot of obscurity) [3]
Category: Psych
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Dialogue, Episode Tag, Fishing, M/M, is this fluff? angst? idk but lassiter has a lot of feelings, s01e13 game set murder, some of them are about not having a father growing up but most of them are about shawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebviathan/pseuds/sebviathan
Summary: “What could you guys possibly talk about out there?”“Shawn, that is the beauty part. Nothing. He knows to sit there, shut up, and fish. What, you think we sit out there and we yap about you all day long?”





	Hook, Line, and Spencer

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is canon dialogue lifted from a scene that is not shown in the fic, because this fic is from Lassiter's POV.
> 
> The title was the _extremely_ clever pun that came to me of its own volition and made me go "okay, I absolutely HAVE to write this, now. time to rewatch the scenes about Lassiter and Henry's fishing-bonding time about 50 times each so I can make sure absolutely nothing detracts from canon and also capture the nuance as well as possible."
> 
> Oh, and there's a direct reference to the events of [Cloudy, with a chance of confession](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5197412) in this fic, but it's not absolutely necessary to read it first. But I mean... I don't see why you wouldn't, since it's so short and has the same vibe.

The moment Henry drives up, Carlton knows he should take it as his cue to leave. He knows that the younger Spencer will be reasonably distracted from following or bothering him any longer, and that he's just been given a lucky break from the other man's inanity. But for _some_ goddamn reason, he doesn't take it.

He in fact _just_ told O'Hara that he was on his way to the station, and instead... he has approached and stopped in front of Spencer's father's truck. And he is standing with Spencer and Guster like the truck is blocking his path.

... _Or_ like he's just curious! He has a minute or so to spare, doesn't he? The case doesn't need him right this _instant_.

It doesn't matter either way. He's already here. It would be _weird_ to just leave without finding out what the older Spencer is up to.

"Shawn, six months ago I called you up and asked you whether or not you want any of this junk," Henry says as he gets out of his truck, gesturing to said "junk" in the bed.

"How come you only call me to come pick up stuff?" his son retorts.

"You didn't listen, and now I'm donating all of it to Goodwill. I'm on my way there right now, so you got about thirty seconds. Last looks."

Of course, Spencer immediately starts rifling through the stuff nearest to the edge, and—out of curiosity!—Carlton watches him pull out a shirt.

" _Woah_ _—_ no, no, no," he starts to protest, unfolding it. "You _cannot_ throw out my Whitesnake t-shirt. You can't get this in stores anymore!"

Cheeking back a fond smirk ( _only_ because he used to be a pretty big fan of Whitesnake, too), Carlton takes a glance through the rummage as well. Maybe he'll see something useful?

In his peripheral, Guster picks out an old _Airwolf_ jacket that Spencer had presumably stolen years back. Moments later, Carlton notices one thing that stands out the most.

"Woah." Ignoring the fact that this is Spencer's family and _not his_ , and that when Henry said 'last looks' it probably wasn't applying to him, he reaches in. "This looks like a custom Sak-Hart rod and reel."

"That's right," Henry tells him, sounding impressed. "Good eye."

Carlton, meanwhile, is affronted. "You can't throw something like this away!"

"Eh, it's fifteen years old."

"Fifteen? It looks brand new."

"Oh, that's because it's never been used." Carlton shifts his frown from the pole to Henry. "Bought it for him."

And then to Shawn, who's currently looking very tired of his dad. _Makes sense._

"... _Man_ , I have been itching to get out on the blue and hook some snapper," Carlton says impulsively, vaguely aware how old he sounds. "But you know what a chore it is to get the boat, and..."

"You're welcome to come with me tomorrow morning," Henry tells him a bit too quickly, raising Carlton's suspicions for a moment. "Boat leaves at 5 A.M. sharp. _Princess_ here... Never could get him up."

Then _that_ , along with the way Henry folds his arms and looks at his son, makes it obvious that this invitation is some kind of taunt. Genuine, surely, but also surely with _pissing Shawn off_ heavily in mind.

"Look," Shawn starts, "the American Medical Association clearly states the proper amount of sleep—"

Carlton decides that that sounds like a _great_ use of his time and, to put the icing on the cake, interrupts him and addresses his dad.

"Well, if you're sure you don't mind a little company?"

"If you're sure you can be there at 5 A.M.?"

It sounds like a challenge, but whether to _him_ or Shawn, he's not sure.

"I'll be on the docks at 4:15," he shoots right back. Then looks directly at Shawn with a somewhat unintentional, taunting smirk, and addresses him as a goodbye:

" _Spencer_."

While Carlton walks back to his car with Spencer's old (unused) fishing pole in hand, he feels disproportionately happy that he didn't leave.

 

*

 

He arrives at 4:15 exactly. Henry is already there,

"What took you so long?" the man asks with folded arms, like he's _Carlton's_ father—and at the same time, sounds pleased.

Carlton has no idea how to feel about that. But he doesn't dwell on it, and simply follows Henry down the docks and to his boat.

There's a minute of silence while they walk, in which Carlton can't help but start to feel anxious. Which doesn't make sense because he's normally _very_ comfortable with silence and in fact prefers it, but his heart is pounding harder and his throat is constricting against his will and objectively what else do you call that but being _anxious_?

In the back of his mind, he's reminded of when he first spent genuine time alone with Victoria's father.

And then he shoves the implications of that into a mental folder titled 'Nothing to worry about,' and locks _that_ in a mental filing cabinet, and mentally sets the cabinet on fire, and buries the remains in a mental landfill just to be safe.

Luckily, Henry breaks the silence.

"Not that I'm not _delighted_ to meet someone younger than me who likes fishing for once, but you sure it's a good idea for you to get less than four hours of sleep when your kidnapping case just got bumped up to murder?"

That almost makes him jump.

"What makes you think I got less than four hours?" Of course, he _did_ , but he believed that he hid it well until now.

Henry gives him a vaguely unnerving smirk, and tells him, "You still got the sleep-inertia look. Bags under the eyes, the _slight_ shivering—not to mention you're wearing the same shirt from yesterday, which you clearly slept in. Couldn't even change into a proper fishing shirt."

Now that sounds like a blatant insult, but before Carlton can get properly offended, Henry continues:

"I'm not complaining, though. At least you got up—I've never seen Shawn awake this early in his _life_ except to get into trouble."

Through all this Henry doesn't look at him at all, and there are so many layers of passive-aggression to wade through that Carlton takes several seconds to realize—

"Hold on, you—you sounded _exactly_ like your son just a second ago."

Henry side-eyes him just slightly. "Did I?"

"Uh, _yeah_ ," Carlton says, frowning deeply at him. "That's how he sounds when he's pulling some bullshit psychic reading, minus all the logical observations that make it make sense... _Holy_ _—_ that's what it is, isn't it?"

He speeds up his walking, then, to try to get ahead of Henry and look him in the face, see his actual reaction—but the man's expression doesn't seem to change.

"What _what_ is, Lassiter?"

"His 'psychic' thing! Or at least some of it, I mean—come on, man to man, _cop to former cop_. He's _not_ a goddamn psychic and you must agree with that."

Now Henry actually takes a moment to stare at him, to squint in what seems like suspicion and purse his lips.

"All I can tell you is that Shawn showed no sign of being psychic before turning 18. After that, I had virtually no contact with him up until seven months ago, and I still haven't seen him around too much lately, so how am I supposed to know?"

By now they've reached his boat, and Henry has proceeded to step onto it and start pulling up the anchor while talking.

Carlton remains on the dock, frustrated.

"Can't you just tell me, outright, whether you _believe_ he is or not? I know you're a rational person—"

"He's solved, what, fifteen or so cases for you by now, hasn't he? 'Bout half of which you probably _never_ would've solved without him?"

"Alright, yeah, but that doesn't automatically make him _psychic_ _—_ "

" _Lassiter_ ," Henry says, just loud enough to get his attention. "Are you gonna stay up there and obsess over my son, or are you gonna come fishing with me?"

"I'm _not_ _—_ " Carlton stops himself at the look on the other man's face, and upon realizing how he was about to sound.

With a sharp pang of humiliation in his gut and hopefully nothing in his face or body language that hints to it, he climbs onto the boat. And he says nothing at all for a while.

It's a good thing fishing requires silence.

Oddly enough, it's Henry who breaks it every once in a while—to comment on the fact that nothing seems to be biting, specifically _why_ they might not be biting, like ecosystem or weather changes or if it's maybe the bait they're using. As much as Carlton would like to catch some fish, however, he thinks the other man is overreacting a bit.

But maybe... that's just how all dads _are_? He wouldn't know.

The following hours are relaxing nevertheless, with all the shared silence as well as a shared breakfast sandwich that Henry brought for them.

Not quite purposefully, Carlton also uses the time to _think_ a lot of things that he doesn't comment aloud—

Like how the guy really looks _so_ much like his son now that he's got a good look at him, and _is Spencer going to look like that when he's older?_ How Spencer is likely fuming over this harmless quality time between his dad and his coworker (friend?), and how funny that is. How much Shawn might have benefitted from getting dragged along on a fishing trip, just once.

Eventually Henry does catch something, but it's very small and, in his words, "would make a weak meal." So he throws it back almost immediately, and subsequently decides that it's time to pull the anchor up and get the boat back to the docks.

"You've got to head to work about now, anyway," he adds. And then, when Carlton merely hums in response, "What, you disappointed?"

"What? No, I had a good time," Carlton says truthfully. "I never go into fishing with high expectations."

"Ha!" Henry slaps the edge of the boat, sounding _very_ pleased. "Good. You know, I _never_ would've been able to go fishing with Shawn even if I'd managed to get him up—that kid hasn't had an ounce of patience in his _life_. He would've fully expected to catch some fish in the span of no less than twenty minutes, and he'd have thrown a big ol' fit when it didn't happen."

 _Knowing Spencer, though,_ Carlton thinks, _he probably fucking_ would _catch a fish in less than twenty minutes without even any experience._

Henry continues: "Wouldn't have been able to get any peace out here with him, either. Shawn fell in love with the sound of his own voice the moment he learned to talk and could never go more than a minute without it."

" _Still_ can't," Carlton laughs. "I can only imagine his teenage years..."

"Trust me, Lassiter, you don't want to. Half the things that _ever_ came out of his mouth past age 13 were about Billy Zane or Val Kilmer. You think he's bad with the constant obscure movie references _now_? You don't know the half of it..."

The crazy thing is, Carlton desperately _wants_ to know the half of it and more—whether he likes that he wants it or not.

But he doesn't make any more comments or ask any questions, because Henry has just anchored the boat _and he needs to go to work!_ and by "go to work" he means take a power-nap in his car before changing into one of the spare shirts he keeps in the backseat, grabbing some extra-caffeinated coffee, and _then_ heading to the station.

"You up for trying again tomorrow morning?" Henry asks, before he can leave. "Truth be told, I am a little bit disappointed to not have caught anything."

A bit too quickly for his own impulse control to catch up, and with a firm shake of Henry's hand, he answers,

"Absolutely."

 

*

 

As much fun as it's been to see Spencer utterly baffled (for _once_ ) about him getting all buddy-buddy with his dad, he's starting to feel like Henry is actually trying to replace his son's company with Carlton's. Or use him to fill up the space that he never was, or whatever.

If Carlton's being honest with himself, of course, he's only ever had father _figures_ in his life, and none he got to do the traditional father-son bonding stuff with. So a bit of this, truthfully, has felt like the parts of childhood he missed out on.

But holy _crap_ , he would trade the ridiculous amount of criticism he gets from Henry for an absent father _any_ day.

For _three_ goddamn hours! Henry has to tell him _every_ little thing he's doing wrong—with what? Sitting down and holding a fishing pole, like his "technique" _matters_ , and furthermore like he's supposed to be a _master_ at fishing when he's already said he hasn't gone in a while?

And shit, he's not saying it outright, but Carlton seriously gets the feeling that there's a silent half to his criticisms that go " _don't do it like Shawn would do_ _—_ _I expected you to be better than Shawn._ " Subsequently he can't help but think, with something heavy in the pit of his stomach—

_Jesus Christ, is this how he treated Shawn?_

To top it all off, the insistence that Carlton "look the part" of a "proper fisherman" and that his work shirts won't cut it, and even giving him his son's old fishing hat...

A tad uncomfortable, if nothing else.

But Carlton still wears it.

It's easy to forget all that, anyway, when Henry actually succeeds in reeling in a fish—a rockfish, looks like, wider than the span of his shoulders, and pretty damn strong. Carlton even has to help with the final few tugs to reel the sucker in.

"That should _easily_ be lunch for two," Henry says once they've managed to wrestle the finally-dead fish into their cooler. "Plus dinner and a few days of leftovers."

Once they get back to the docks, Henry grabs the first person he sees, hands them his camera, and asks if they can get a picture of him with the fish. Naturally Carlton gets in there, puts a hand on Henry's shoulder and poses, with his fishing pole upright and the _slightest_ smile.

He doesn't want to appear overly excited, but Carlton feels like a little kid finally getting to be in a fishing picture. And he knows it. And he doesn't mind the feeling.

 

*

 

"I swear, he runs up and down the station like he owns it, and _I'm_ the only thing keeping him from getting away with it."

"Hm... 'course he does. You know what, Lassiter, here's some experienced advice: Shawn is fueled by spite. If you disapprove of something, no matter who you are to him—"

"Except Val Kilmer."

" _Right_ _—_ really, if you're in any position of authority, he will do whatever it is. And somehow he'll do it successfully. Part of life, even in your case, is just accepting that. And the rest of it is making sure he gets his comeuppance as often as possible."

"And how often has that been, in your _experience_?" Carlton asks, with a lot of examples hopeful in mind.

And oh, he gets them.

Just as he could reasonably expect, and as Henry has previously mentioned, Spencer was absolutely _wild_ as a kid. And like Carlton has been vaguely aware of for a while now, it sounds like he was (and is) a fucking _genius_ underneath all the jokes and attention-seeking and weird obsessions.

And then some of it—god, even aside from any sort of malicious humor or potential blackmail, some of it is just plain _fun_ information to have.

"There was this one time around nine or ten—he had an 'epiphany,' I guess, that he could get more done if he didn't sleep," Henry tells him eventually. "As true as that is, I tried to explain it didn't work that way, but he was dead-set on his little... hypothesis. So I said, alright, try it out, see for yourself how it works and let me know what you accomplish. Little shit somehow managed to stay up an entire _five days_ before passing out in the backyard."

"Hah, I can imagine it. He wind up accomplishing anything?"

"Uh... a very _intricate_ lego replica of Santa Barbara, I think. Not gonna lie, it was impressive, however much a waste of time... Shawn did a lot of that—weird little projects that he could somehow dump all his focus on for _days_ when I couldn't get him to care about crap that _mattered_ for the life of me..."

Carlton feels a surge of anger, but he can't be sure exactly what for. After a moment he ignores it, and presses for even more weird Shawn-related anecdotes.

Only because he's curious and wants dirt on Spencer, he _swears_. If only to himself.

And he might as well, while he's here.

Henry has cooked up the fish they caught this morning, and Carlton has about an hour and a half off for lunch to enjoy it. He's got to say, honestly, the guy's a pretty damn good cook. It's a solid redeeming factor.

While they're discussing the spices and garnishes added to the fish, and without them even noticing, funnily enough, the younger Spencer himself comes up the walkway and stops directly in front of the deck.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

Both of their heads snap up at Shawn's voice, and even though they weren't talking about him just now, Carlton has a moment of panic. He straightens up, hurriedly wipes any possible food off his face, and folds his hands on the table.

"Shawn!" Henry greets loudly. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," he tells them. "I guess I took a wrong turn and ended up in _The Twilight Zone_ _—_ what the hell's going on here?"

He sounds so hilariously bewildered, Carlton has to stifle a laugh.

"What? We caught us some lunch this morning."

"Hooked 'em, cooked 'em, and ate 'em," Carlton chimes in casually, making eye contact with Spencer and sipping his drink.

Shawn frowns. "...How tribal of you."

Henry immediately turns to him—

"Shawn never really _was_ one for roughing it. We went camping once—found him curled up inside his sleeping bag _because a raccoon was hunting him_."

Now with Spencer actually present (and looking exasperated), Carlton _relishes_ being able to turn and smile directly at him while hearing about his childhood quirks. Hell, he can barely contain how widely his lips want to stretch, and he instinctively brings his knuckles up to his face.

" _Stalking_ me," Shawn corrects him. "The raccoon was stalking me, Dad.

Maybe it's a culmination of _everything_ he's heard about Spencer the past two days, and literally eating lunch with Spencer's father (on the front deck of where he lives, where Spencer _used to live_ ), and seeing Spencer in person outside the context of their current case, but Carlton feels so much like laughing—and doesn't, even though Henry is—that his eyes start to water.

Then he realizes how warm his chest is getting, how the feeling is spreading to his face—and how perceptive the Spencer men are, so he quickly moves to hide it with another drink.

Except he doesn't need it in another few seconds, because Shawn is here to talk to his father alone. Which is a relief, until... they actually leave him by himself on the deck. Then he's alone with his thoughts, and he realizes that his chest went back to normal the moment Spencer left his sight, and—

 _It's just some weird sense of fondness. Nothing wrong with that! Spencer's objectively an enigma of a person and_ anyone _would be excited to learn about his childhood, okay?_

_I'm overthinking it, it's just_ _—_

_It's just a stupid crush!_ he finally, mentally screams at himself. _It doesn't mean anything!_

A mere few weeks ago he literally confessed these stupid feelings to O'Hara, and yet this is the first time in the past couple days he thinks he's been willing to admit to himself that they existed.

He supposes that he'd just hoped they would have gone away by now.

_God, you know what_ _—_

He should just leave, before he has a chance to see Spencer and risk feeling like that again. He can just write a note to apologize to Henry for leaving abruptly, with the semi-truthful excuse that he needs to get back to the station.

Which is exactly what he proceeds to do, followed by a brisk walk out of Spencer's yard.

 

*

 

Spencer puts on a pretty goddamn impressive show of explaining how SBPD's very own forensic photographer was Deanna's murderer. It's something, in fact, that might make Carlton actually start to believe in his supposed 'psychicness'—or would have, if he hadn't been spending time around Spencer's dad.

If he hadn't listened to mounds of evidence, however subtle, that Spencer didn't need to be psychic to notice things no one else could. Like the lights of a restaurant _through the window_ in a photo.

Instead, as angry as he is that he didn't—really, that he _couldn't_ notice it himself, Carlton is secretly in awe as he watches this week's Big Reveal. For the first time, even through the over-dramatics... he feels certain that, while Spencer is not a psychic, he is certainly not a fraud.

...He's still not happy about it, but he can admit that that makes his heart beat much, much faster.

 

***

 

He _cannot_ go fishing with Henry again, god dammit.

Why or how the guy is even up for so many successive fishing trips, he has no idea, but Carlton is tired. Fishing should be a once-a-week activity at most, either alone, between old, retired men, or between a father and son. He is _not_ old enough to be Henry's friend, and moreso he's really not up to being Henry's pseudo-son, whether the guy intended to make him that or not.

He also just... does not think he could handle spending more alone time with Henry Spencer _ever again_ , now that he knows what that entails.

So on the evening that Henry told him to come over for a "change of pace" (lake fishing at night instead of ocean fishing in the morning), Carlton does, but only to drop off the fishing pole for good.

Of course, Shawn has to be there when he gets there.

"There he is!" Henry says when he sees him, but his expression drops quickly. "Well, you're here, but you're not gonna go out like that, are you?"

"Yeeeah... I, uh, can't make it tonight, I gotta work a double. _Hey_ _—_ I know, why don't you take Junior here?" he suggests genuinely, and gestures to Shawn, who looks extremely confused. At least Henry doesn't look angry. "Catch you next week."

He will certainly _not_ catch him next week, but he supposes it's only polite. If nothing else, that amount of time should put it out of Henry's mind, and the non-specificity of it makes the plan fizzle into nothingness on its own. He should be in the clear.

Until the younger Spencer runs after him, and stops him at the gate, demanding,

"Woah—what are you talking about? Didn't you just work back-to-back shifts on that tennis thing?"

Of _course_.

"Okay, fine. You got me," he admits, almost eagerly. "Alright—he's _actually_ capable of taking all the fun out of fishing. He criticized my pole technique for like, three hours. It's holding a pole in the water—what is there to criticize?"

" _Hey_ , ease up," Spencer stops him, just barely capable of pretending to be serious. "That's my pop you're talking about."

Carlton wants to laugh, but he's also itching to get away from Henry entirely. That, and he feels warmth creeping up in his chest again.

But before escaping, he feels the need to tell him, quickly, "I'm beginning to understand you a little better, Spencer."

If only he had the guts to tell him the half of it.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if i made it clear enough, but for all his depth and whatever Obligatory Fatherly Love he might feel for shawn, i'm 100% on the side that henry was (and is) emotionally abusive Garbage™
> 
> also, if you're interested in reading more about lassie interacting with shawn's parents and realizing how much he loves him, click that "next work" link


End file.
